Ambivalent Love
by Nootardby
Summary: AU AC5&6 Five years has passed since Blaze disappeared at the end of the Circum-Pacific War. Just when Edge thought she could lead a peaceful life, a series of tumultuous events reunited her with a ghost from her past. Leads to AC6 opening in chapter 6.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Ace Combat series is property of Namco and its associates. All official, er, stuff n things featured in this story are properties of their respective owners.

* * *

The Pain You Gave

* * *

Five years ago

December 31, 2010

Oured Bay, Osea

---

"70 seconds left, Captain!" shouted Archer, reminding his flight lead that the SOLG satellite cannon would enter jet aircraft interception range in little more than one minute.

Jet contrails - curving and twisting within one another against the backdrop of the rising sun - painted a chaotic but mesmerizing picture.

"Go, three of you, go!" Blaze ordered as he chased a Su-47 Berkut turning hard to the right.

"But these are Ofnirs and Grabacrs. That's why it took us so long to get rid of them. You can't take 4 Su-47s alone" Swordsman objected.

"And you can't take down SOLG with the armament of just two planes" the Razgriz flight lead continued.

"But you do, you have one more shot on the TLS. Go, we will cover you" objected Nagase.

"No, this is my fight. These people we are fighting - my people- started this, I will end it" he said, "you take care of the satellite. Please go, Nagase. Don't waste more time"

"...Wil" she said, "I still want to fly with you. So be safe. Promise me"

"I promise. You be careful too" he replied.

Three black F-22s disengaged from the fight and headed towards the northwest sector of the area. Three of the four remaining Su-47 pursued but was halted of a slice of red beam which destroyed two.

"Fool, you fired that twice just to save them. It should be offline now" transmitted Michael Heimeroth, Ofnir's flight lead, over Blaze's radio in the Belkan language.

_"Of course, you guys built this monster. You should know that. But we completed it and flew it. Now who's the fool?"_ Blaze thought, refusing to answer his taunts.

When the 6-second duration of the TLS ended, the remaining Su-47 which attempted to pursue Edge, Swordsman and Archer resumed his chase. In desperation, Blaze chased after it and placed his rear vulnerable to the Ofnir leader chasing after him. Both flight leads of the opposing squadrons clicked their guns at the same time, bullets ripping through two planes and causing one explosion. The Falken – its left wing riddled with holes and left engine smoking- emerged through the Su-47's fireball. The remaining Ofnir plane followed close behind with its guns still blazing.

"You may succeed in destroying the SOLG, but this isn't over. The Gray Men are far from finished. We are still large in numbers and strong in influence" said Heimeroth, pulling hard on his control stick to keep up with the damaged but still agile Falken.

_"Your words mean nothing at this point, murderer"_

"Before you die, I wish only to inform you that your friends, their families and their friends will constantly live in fear. They will be hunted for opposing us, especially the woman"

"Don't you dare touch her! Your problems are with me" he finally replied.

"Indeed! And it will end here, traitor"

With that, the Sukhoi's fore internal bay opened and 2 missiles propelled themselves at the wounded plane ahead. As the Falken discharged all it flares, Blaze pushed the throttle stick to the max, pulled the control stick and stepped hard on the left rudder. Since the left engine was down, the full thrust of the remaining engine as well as the rudder and aileron orientations made the aircraft turn rapidly into the reverse direction facing the trailing Berkut.

"Heimeroth, people like us has no place in this coming world" Blaze whispered, clicking the trigger button to his guns.

* * *

Several years has passed since then. The destruction of the SOLG ended the Circum-Pacific War which was perpetrated by the Gray Men, and brought with it sweeping changes in the world. Thanks largely due to the funds and resources Osea provided Yuktobania to rebuild its infrastructure, relations between the two superpowers grew warmer than ever before. The extreme right-wing of both governments lost their influence and the two nations became more open to dialog.

In response to the ability of Grunder Industries to incite a war between two superpowers, almost every nation in the world formed oversight organizations to keep watch on the actions and dealings of large corporations. The lack of such oversight was one major factor that allowed Grunder Industries to fan the flames which resulted in the War.

The war's end, however, did not bring the peace many hoped for. A global manhunt for the members of the Gray Men officially began on February 2011. Within three months, over 2000 individuals – both wealthy and not - all around the globe were implicated and most sentenced to death. With thousands more deaths in the following months, 2011 infamously became known as the "witch-hunt of the 21st century". The hunt, despite being bloody in itself, threatened to push the world into war once more due to startling discoveries made linking the Gray Men with a large number of terrorist organizations and rogue states that would benefit from the fall of Osea and Yuktobania. Some government members - citing the combined military force of both nations - called for military operations into those rogue states who denied not only any involvement in the conspiracy but also independent investigators access into those countries. Another open war would have broken out if not for the outcry of war-weary citizens.

Despite all the negativity of 2011, a new age of humanity began on September 2012 when researchers determined the presence of Helium-3 - a clean and reliable fuel - on the moon as well as an efficient method to extract them. This drew great interest from governments of all sides. Since most wars were fought over energy sources such as oil, they realized the value of this find. The combined resources of those nations accelerated Osea's moon colonization program which has stalled since 1970 when the Cold War between Yuktobania and Osea escalated to near calamity. The participation of so many nations unified the world that ever before.

But what of the Razgriz, you ask? Well, some things changed while others stayed the same. Hans became a flight instructor in Heierlark AFB. Pops followed him as a mechanic. Snow retired the military and became a passenger plane captain. When I asked him why, he said his conversation with Blaze during our last naval engagement helped him decide. Bartlett, on the other hand, stayed the same: a Captain in Sand Island, a base that's now very undermanned due to the easing tensions between the nations across the pond. I like the place much more now, he said. As for me, I quit the military and moved back in with my mother. I needed some quiet time off and the town where she lived was the perfect place.

The calmness makes my mind wander often to Blaze. We spoke last in the skies above Oured Bay, and I can still remember his promise, the promise that he broke when he disappeared from my radar screen. Although the OMDF found pieces of the Falken floating on the Bay, there was no sign of him or the plane. He was gone, leaving me behind…Come to think of it, I was the one said, "I want to stay with you". He didn't say anything of the sort in return....I suppose I expected too much. When he helped Hans, Pops, Genette and I escape Sand Island that night, I knew he realized his mistake, that he served the wrong ideal. He had truly joined us then. But as soon as the path we walked converged, it diverged once more that dawn. For years, I kept up hope that he might be still alive. Sometimes, I feel someone's gaze on my back, as if watching me, but that's just wishful thinking on my part.

People often say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but that's not the case with me. As time passed, he becomes more distant, more like a memory. Maybe that's because my feelings for him isn't real. Perhaps it's just like in the action movies, born out of our adrenaline-filled mission. I guess that's to be expected. Our relationship, if you can even call it a 'relationship', isn't quite normal. OADF prohibits fraternization, so we never really had a chance to bond.

My memory of him could have stayed pleasant if not for the repeated attempts on our lives. We initially didn't notice them as they simply seem to be unlucky circumstances such as almost getting run over by a drunk driver, being involved in a bank robbery, failed engine on an airplane and almost getting hit by a falling I-beam from a construction site. When whoever wishes us dead knew they couldn't do the job inconspicuously, they resorted to drastic measures. They took and killed my mother - my only remaining family - to get to me. I knew the people responsible for these were doing the bidding of the Gray Men, mad men thirsty for revenge. I warned the others but it was too late. Hans lost his left leg in a roadside car bomb. He could never fly again. As for Snow…he, his wife and one of their two children were killed. Never have I felt this much hatred for someone. I never saw or knew the people responsible for all these. They had no face I could relate to, except one. Just one person I once felt very strongly for. If he or the ideal he served never existed; if only they never set foot upon this world, none of these would happen. It's funny how quickly affection can turn to hate.

I joined the Interpol and worked in the department specializing in the Gray Men hunt, hoping that it would lead me to my mother's killer. Though I know the Interpol jurisdiction is limited only to gathering intelligence, and the actual act of enforcing of the law must be handed over to local authority, it is the only police force in the world that can operate in anywhere in the world. One day, I got a lead on my mother's murderer hiding out in a small hamlet in northeast Osea, but someone had gotten to him first. His death was horrifying: It was as though he was brutally tortured till death. His eyes were gouged out, nails and teeth pulled out, fingers broken in every direction, testicles …. well, you get the picture. A series of deaths later - though they were not as graphic as the death of my mother's killer – made me notice a relationship: the victims were all Gray Men members who managed to escape the law and who the police cannot touch. I was both happy and angry: happy that someone's been killing them off, but angry that the hunt for these people doesn't seem to end, and that whoever eliminated them were more effective than I was. No matter what I did, he/she were always steps ahead... But no more. Soon I will catch that person and find out his/her methods of finding and eliminating those cockroaches of an organization which should have died with the War's end five years ago.

* * *

Present day

August 27, 2015

Basset Space Center, Osea

---

The discovery of He-3 made the Basset Space Center busier it had ever been. Brilliant minds from all over came together with one goal in mind: to put a permanent, working base on the moon. Even the crew of the first shuttle would comprise of nationals from participating states. Realizing the value of such multinational cooperation, governments popularized the project – codenamed Peacemaker- as something that would bring peace on earth by providing abundant energy to all. Of course, opponents of the project – because there was no binding agreement that the He-3 would be shared - branded it as a wile method by the already wealthy participating countries to monopolize energy and further their power and wealth at the expense of leaving less developed nations behind.

"Phew, they checked me three times now," said a black haired FBI agent dressed in a black-white suit as he looked back at the runway checkpoint where he was scanned for weapons and explosive by heavily armed OAF soldiers. "I thought you weren't coming. The launch's happening in less than 30 minutes. How was your flight?"

The woman next to him replied, "as normal as it can be-"

Four F-22s flying-by in formation overhead interrupted her. Looking up, she saw four other squadrons performing combat air patrol over the skies of the space center. Since many dignitaries and world leaders were gathered at one place, security was elaborate. In addition to the guards at the runway checkpoint, teams of soldiers and M1126 Stryker ICVs guarded the 4 entrances of the VIP-packed convention hall. M1A2 Abrams tanks accompanied by Strykers carrying full marine complements patrolled the facility grounds while an E-3 Sentry provided radar support. Several Ticonderoga-class AEGIS cruisers supported by Arleigh Burke-class missile destroyers blockaded the waters leading to the facility. Finally, several M270A1 MLRS were on standby as fire support.

"You don't have much love for these formal events do you, Nagase?" the man asked, observing her head to toe, from her shoulder length black hair tied in a bun to her pale, pretty face down to a cyan blouse under a blue suit and a matching blue pants which formed around her slender body. "Don't you ever wear a dress? Er, not that you don't look beautiful…"

The Interpol detective ignored the remark of her FBI colleague and said, "how's the security inside?"

"Other agents are positioned among the crowds-Don't worry, I haven't told them about that thing" he quickly said upon receiving her glare. "VIPs are allowed bodyguards of their own, but no weapons inside the hall, though. It's a form of international "trust" and "good will", said Harling. I say it's all dandy but what if things go south?"

"Just keep an eye out, Tanaka. That person's sure to be here" she said before handing him a wireless communication device in the form of a small earpiece. "Take this. Frequency's set to allow comm between these two pieces only. It shouldn't interfere with the one you are currently wearing"

"Thanks" Toshihiko Tanaka said before both entered the elegantly decorated convention hall where the sounds of chatter suddenly filled the air.

Tables carrying refreshments such as cocktails and finger foods were scattered throughout the room. Smartly dressed men and elegantly dressed ladies mingled amongst one another in the crowd of three hundred. Television crews perched on the balconies 2 stories above the carpeted ground floor. A large LCD screen the size of hangar doors installed above a stage as well as numerous smaller monitors mounted on metal pillars and along the sides of the hall showed the large shuttle Peacemaker 01 on the launch pad of the mass driver. Clapping suddenly arose from the audience as the monitors showed the vehicles carrying the shuttle crew arriving at the launch pad.

"At least they weren't kidding when they said it would comprise of people from other nationalities. I'm so used to seeing all white people on these missions" Tanaka remarked jokingly.

"Yeah…" she replied half-heartedly, "shouldn't you get back to your duty?"

"….sigh…this wasn't the date I was hoping for" he whispered.

"You said something?" Nagase asked.

"No, nothing"

"Stay alert. The launch is in 20 minutes. Something's happening soon"

Leaving Tanaka, she stepped deeper into the crowds toward the stairs leading up to balconies which allowed better view of the hall and its occupants.

"I think you are being overly paranoid. You gave the security all –well, most of - the intelligence you had. Plus, no one's foolish enough to attack this facility. The military presence is so heavy here I can't almost breathe" he said.

She didn't answer him again as she caught the eye of the Harling who nodded to her. She nodded back and watched him return to his conversation with Nikanor and Elena Rosenberg, the CEO of General Resources. Others around her began whispering when they noticed that interaction between the world's most powerful man and a seemingly insignificant woman.

"That's him. 1 meter east, 2 north" said Tanaka without pointing or looking at the location where he was referring to. "Geofrey Amansal. Another rich Gray Men sympathizer … look at him, smug, thinking we didn't know yet"

"Don't make your move yet. He is the secondary objective" Nagase said.

"Remember," Tanaka warned, "FBI's the one with jurisdiction here. You are here because of special Presidential invitation, not as an Interpol detective, so don't try anything stupid. Besides you don't even carry a weapon. If anything bad happens, it's my ass on the line."

"Didn't I tell you I owe you a big one?" the former ace pilot asked.

"I just don't get it" Tanaka said a slight annoyed tone. "I mean, I appreciate you telling only me. That means a lot in terms of trust. But why didn't you tell the military and my boss that Amansal is an agent? If I were a Gray Men agent, the failure of this project is what I need. We need to get him before he tries anything"

"He won't try anything" she assured him.

"You can't possibly be that sure" he protested, "And why are you so obsessed with that vigilante who hunts Gray Men collaborators? You don't even have proof that's it's the same culprit"

"…I don't expect you to understand. Just remember what you promised me" she said.

"_We have been working together repeatedly for a couple years now, yet I still don't know what you are thinking. Why do you seem so distant, as if chasing after something?" _he thought, glancing at the person on the balcony.

Since Tanaka was walking forward while looking at Nagase, he bumped into a waiter carrying champagne glasses on a tray. The result was predictable: the tray fell along with the glasses. Several guests around them jumped to evade the falling liquid.

"I'm so sorry, sir" the spectacled waiter said, looking at Tanaka's wet pants while picking the fallen glasses up.

"No, no. Don't worry about it. I'm the one not looking where I'm going" the FBI agent said kneeling down to help.

Suddenly the ground shook and voices of shock filled the convention hall. Tanaka looked at the large monitor and his eyes widened at the large mushroom cloud near the space shuttle. Though the cockpit section was still visible, the entire aft portion was completely blocked by the pillar of smoke. Seconds later, the monitors and lights in the hall went off, causing panic. When Tanaka recollected himself, the waiter was already gone. Guests were shuffling uncomfortably, surrounded by their respective bodyguards. A nearby scream then led him to Amansal, dead in his own pool of blood.

"Tanaka!" shouted a blond-haired man dressed in a similar suit as he.

"Sir!" he acknowledged his superior officer, Telford Sturgeon.

"What is this?" Sturgeon asked, looking at the corpse by his subordinate's feet.

"He-" he was about to tell him Amansal's a Gray Men operative but caught himself and lied, "Don't know, sir. He was like this when I found him"

"Secure the body" he said before barking orders into his wireless, "Scott, get over to here right now! Get me confirmation on the president! Has the secret service secured him?"

Feeling a protrusion in his right coat pocket, Tanaka reached into it and produced a napkin with the words: "keep an eye on her". He quickly switched his view to Nagase. She was no longer there.

* * *

The spectacled waiter, undoing his bow tie, slipped out into the kitchen past confused chefs and other waiters and waitresses. The knife he used just seconds ago he placed into the dishwasher among other similar knives. After pressing the "High Heat Wash" button, he proceeded into an adjoining room where he dove into a laundry chute leading to the basement. A bin full of used linen cushioned his fall. The black-haired man then walked a few steps to a conveniently parked Humvee, opened the left front door and began donning an OAF Colonel uniform. Halfway through, however, he heard something, or rather, someone sliding down the chute in similar manner as he did.

He grabbed his silenced USP45 handgun tucked with the military uniform and pointed it the space where a person's head would be upon exiting the chute. As the sound of person barreling down the chute grew louder, he slowly squeezed the trigger. A bluish figure fell out and landed on her back. His hand twitched out of aim, making the bullet miss its organic target by millimeters.

Nagase looked up, her brown eyes meeting his gray ones. She observed the face she recognized easily: unkempt black hair, gray eyes, and facial features of Belkan-Osean origin. Everything was as she remembered except for the rough, unshaven jaws, the thinner body build, the glasses and the bags under the blood-shot eyes. In front of her was the face of a ghost she loved, and hated…

* * *

A/N: This story is a pseudo-sequel to my Color of My Wings story, but you don't have to read it to understand this one. I would greatly appreciate reviews. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

It's A Form of Love

* * *

August 27, 2015

Basset Space Center, Osea

Convention Hall Basement

---

Nagase's astonished look at the reappearance of the ghost of her past life lasted only mere seconds. She tensed herself and gave Blaze a intimidating look even though he's the one with the gun. This made Blaze recall the mission where Chopper, Archer and he rescued her and a couple gunship pilots after they were downed over Yuktobania. Now that he's on the receiving end of it, he finally understood how that Yuktobanian soldier felt.

"Earpiece," he said threateningly, reacquiring his aim, "take it out."

"If you are-"

A bullet which barely missed the side of her temple interrupted her.

"Earpiece" he said again.

She complied, throwing the object at his feet. The former Razgriz leader crushed it under his right foot, before looking at her again and dropping his aim.

"Don't be on Edge" he said suddenly and amicably, attempting to make a pun out of her old callsign.

Caught off-guard, Nagase's eyes grew wide again at his poor attempt at a humor which blatantly contradicted his earlier serious demeanor. Other people may not recognize his jokes since they were always so dry, so unfunny and so unexpected, but she somehow understood it immediately, like she always did five years ago. She may even have laughed if not for the situation they are in.

Finding no response from the woman in front of him, Blaze stepped back towards the open Humvee door - which formed a barrier between them - and resuming dressing.

"…How did you survive?" she asked, forgetting that in front of her was a potential criminal who, as a police officer, she must subjugate first before asking questions.

He didn't reply.

"Why did you disappear like you did?"

He still remained silent.

"Answer me, Wilhelm Schulz!" she shouted angrily, brandishing a thin ceramic knife –undetectable by external touch and sensors - from her right hip and tossing it at him.

The blade flew through the open window and struck him on right shoulder, making him flinch. Despite the knife being lightweight, its sharpness provided enough penetration to make him drop his gun. Distracted while trying to pull the knife out, Blaze failed to notice her closing the distance between them. A bang echoed in the empty basement as he felt the cold, metal frame of the Humvee door slamming into his face and breaking one of the two lenses to his glasses. Nagase grabbed the USP45 next to the left front wheel, distanced herself and aimed at him.

"That uniform won't help you get out of this" she said, putting her emotions aside. "You are already #1 on the OADF wanted list for disappearing with the Falken. Now you are a terrorist for that explosion on the mass driver. I'm putting you under arrest for repeated counts of murder, obstruction of justice, terrorism, and conspiracy against multiple nations. Put your hands on the hood of the vehicle now!"

"You have no such power. ICPO's limited to-"

She fired one shot at the Humvee door, stopping him.

"I only need to keep you long enough for security to get you. Now, hands on the hood!"

He rounded the vehicle door and complied.

"Terrorism and conspiracy, huh?" he sighed, "You understand nothing"

"You are right, I don't. You may have been killing Gray Men members to atone for what you have done years ago, but today you became a something worse than a murderer: you blew up that space shuttle" she said, throwing him a used towel from the laundry bin next to her. "Tie your wrists up"

"That wasn't my doing"

"Lies! I saw you. You expected the blast to happen and you killed Amansal while everyone was still stunned by it "

"…the attack should start anytime now" he said, avoiding Nagase's accusation.

"What attack? What are you-"

She was interrupted by vibrations caused by explosions on the surface.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"Space Defense Front: the opponents to this so called Peacemaker project. You would be surprised how strong they are. Their attack will fail but they mounted it anyway. Just goes to show that how desperate people can be"

"And you plan to escape in the chaos of the battle? How did you know they were going to attack?"

"Kei-"

"You have no right to call me that!" she shouted, silencing him. "Now answer the question!"

"… FOS 10078 RLN codename: Lunaire. You know what that is?" he asked.

She remembered the name, but remained silent.

"An advanced OS to handle Falken's complex systems. The Gray Men's greatest creation. Ironically, they didn't realize that she's much, much more"

"She?"

"Lunaire learned such concepts and chose the gender"

"What are you implying?"

"She's highly-intelligent, sentient AI that can reside in any OS-based machine" he said, drawing an incredulous chuckle from Nagase.

"No such thing could exist"

"Whatever you wish to believe is your choice, but I would have been dead if it weren't for her. Since then, we have been working together to eliminate Gray Men members you police cannot touch. That's why I also know about the SDF's plan to attack today"

"Five years you have been doing this," Nagase said, "to what end?"

"So you don't have to do the things I have done. Forget this revenge business. Live a happy life"

"What do you know about happiness? My life's gone when you and that evil organization you served took everything I loved." she said bitterly. "You don't know how badly I want to pull this trigger"

"…But I know" he softly said at the same time as the Humvee's lights flashed on, blinding her.

At the same instant, Blaze threw the towel he faked tying his wrists with at her. Nagase - thinking the silhouette generated by the towel was Blaze's - shot at it. She realized her mistake too late when the gun was wrenched out of her grasp. Despite her military training – which enabled her to thwart his first attempt at grabbing her – her position facing the Humvee's headlights was disadvantageous. The next second, she felt herself flying through the air and landed hard on her back. Almost immediately, arms coiled around her neck in a sleeper hold. She struggled against it - her fingernails digging into his left forearm - but to no avail.

Feeling herself slipping out of consciousness due to the blockage to her carotid artery, she heard him whisper, "By not involving you, I had hoped to protect you. I'm sorry for everything"

"_Again, you are going to disappear on me, like you did last time. There's so much I want to ask" _her lips silently mouthed the words before darkness consumed her.

After feeling her go limp, the former Razgriz leader lifted his former wingman up and leaned her against a wall. Several seconds passed as he looked intently at her, his right hand touching her face and his thumb brushing her skin. Several locks of hair, which had become undone during their struggle, he tucked back behind her ears and tidied; the blood on her nails, he cleaned; the hands of those nails, he tightly held and kissed.

* * *

August 28, 2015

Edward G. Hodgers Building

Interrogation Room 504C

Oured, Osea

---

"Being on the other end of the table is different, isn't it?" asked a blond-haired, middle-aged man as he entered the room, locked it and walked towards a seat across Tanaka.

"You will be personally conducting this interrogation, sir?" he said.

"There aren't any other available agents," Telford Sturgeon said, taking his seat. "We have been so busy since this morning, phones ringing constantly, and other intelligence agencies asking for details. I don't even have time to check my stocks- must have dropped like a rock"

"Sir?"

"Relax, Tanaka. I'm get like this when I am tired"

"Then I should be helping you, not the one being questioned" he said, agitated.

"This isn't an interrogation. You aren't even handcuffed and you still carry your gun" Sturgeon said, turning on an audio/video recorder in the form of a laptop. "It's been a long day. You helped enough. Most agents on your shift I have already sent home. Now we just need to get your perspective on today's events"

A table – upon which lay the laptop recorder and a briefcase containing various documents and utensils - separated the two men. To Tanaka's left, a window with a view to the Oured Bay showed various city lights lighting up the midnight sky. A one-way mirror in front on him on one face of the lightly-painted, 36 square meters room reflected Tanaka's face. This was the first time he sat on the chair facing that mirror. In addition, his boss was the one conducting the interview. Both factors rather unnerved him because he was usually the one doing the questioning for the past 3 years since his joining the Bureau.

"You know the drill. Name, DOB, age, occupation in that order" Sturgeon said.

"Toshihiko Tanaka. 12th December 1987. 27 years old. FBI special agent, Counterintelligence division, Operations branch" he listed.

"What was your assignment on August 27, 2015 at the Bassett Space Center?"

"I was under the command of Telford Sturgeon, head of the Operations branch. We were to provide additional security on site alongside other agencies"

"Other agents saw you with a woman coming into the conventional hall. Who was she?"

"Kei Nagase, an ICPO detective. She was there as President Harling's special guest. I volunteered as her escort just from the entrance gate to the conventional hall. Agent Sturgeon gave me the go-ahead"

"What is your relationship with her?"

"Strictly professional. We worked together in few cases" he said, hiding his hesitation on the words 'strictly professional'. _"Well, I had hoped it could be more, but she has always been indifferent to my approaches"_

"What was the nature of those cases?"

"We were investigating Gray Men individuals suspected of espionage and black market trading of Osean military technologies. You may refer to reports 1023A, 1133B and 1136A through 1144C for further details"

"Continue your observations on today's events" Sturgeon said, moving the interview along.

"After escorting Ms. Nagase, I moved back to my position on the hall floor, where I then bumped into a waiter, spilling the champagne he carried. An explosion occurred. A scream thereafter led me to Geofrey Amansal, an executive at Neucom Inc. He was dead. Agent Sturgeon then ordered me to secure the area around the body, where I stayed until the evacuation of VIPs was complete"

"What of the waiter you mentioned?"

"He was gone. I assumed he had gone into the crowds"

"Could you briefly describe him?"

"Black hair, grey eyes, about 180cm height, normal-thin build. His name on the tag was 'Adam Smith'"

"And you are sure about the name?"

"Yes"

"Was there anything out of the ordinary you saw about that man?" Sturgeon asked, looking at Tanaka for the first time since he entered.

"…No, sir"

"Have you contacted Ms. Nagase anytime after that?"

"None. My calls earlier today didn't get through"

"Is there anything you wish to add?" Sturgeon asked.

Tanaka hesitated. He should have said something about knowing the true identity of Amansal. But speaking out, especially when he's on record, would mean he aided Nagase in withholding critical information. He could be fired, or even worse, criminally charged. Then, there was that note which said, "Keep an eye on her". The only one who could have slipped him the note is the waiter.

"_Is Nagase what he meant by 'her'? If so, how are they related? Is that why she's so insistent of catching him? So that would mean the waiter was the one who killed Amansal. What if telling Sturgeon about the note, about everything, will link me to this mess and land me in a pile of shit?"_ he thought, before finally lying. "Nothing more"

"Alright," Scott said, closing the recorder laptop that separated the two men and booting up another one.

"Did you find anything out about Ms. Nagase, sir?"

"The evacuation was chaotic. There was no time to check everyone out. My contact at the Interpol reports she's on flight back to their HQ in Usea, but since commercial air traffic are grounded today-or rather, yesterday since it's already 2:00am, she probably won't arrive until later today"

"I see. Thank you" he said. "Are we done?"

"One more thing: There was no 'Adam Smith' working today"

"What? That's impossible. The name is still clear in my mind"

"We are just talking here, Tanaka. You don't have to hide anything"

The younger man tensed as he said, "I don't appreciate your tone, sir"

"For your age, you are the most competent agent I have. I haven't nurtured you all these years, not to have an inkling of what you are thinking. I understand your reluctance to say anything on record, but now we are not." Sturgeon said, leaning back onto the chair's back rest, folding his arms and looking at his subordinate who remained silent. "…Don't you think it's odd?"

"What is?"

Sturgeon tapped a few keys on the laptop he just booted up, turned its monitor towards Tanaka and played a video file. It was a CCTV recording of Tanaka bumping into the waiter. Both then knelt down before the video ends.

"Power went out in the hall then. At first look, the scene looks ordinary. But then I watched other footages. In all the cameras which recorded him, none showed his face clearly, not even with further image processing. Why is that?"

"He knew all the location of the cameras and never looked at them" Tanaka said.

"Now why would a waiter do that?" Sturgeon asked.

"You suspect he had something to do with the death of Amansal?"

"Why else would he be so close to the victim at the time of death then?" Sturgeon asked, looking directly at Tanaka once again. "Now here is where your friend Ms. ICPO comes in to all this. Gray Men investigations are her specialities, and I just found out the murder victim had connections to that organization. Her presence may mean she has prior knowledge of about Amansal's identity, yet she didn't include it in her intelligence report. Why? The Gray Men has everything to gain if the Peacemaker project fails. So why didn't she tell us?"

Tanaka never felt this much pressure in his life. His mentor had always been good at reading people, at coercing answers from them without actually threatening them. However, the years of working under Sturgeon taught the younger man how not to give himself away.

"Detective Nagase is an honest person who takes great pride in her work. She makes the morally correct choices even if it makes things difficult for her. If she did not include Amansal's true identity in her report, then she didn't know anything about it" he said calmly.

Two faces, both emotionless, looked at each other for several long seconds.

"…Very well" Sturgeon said. "We are done here. Go home, get some rest. I need you fresh and alert in the morning"

"Yes, sir"

Both men left the room and went on their separate ways. At the elevator, Tanaka looked at his mobile phone's clock which read 02:20 am.

"_Nagase, are you alright?" _he thought, unlocking the phone's touch-screen.

His question was answered in the form of a text message. However, just as he was about to open it, the phone's batteries went dead. The FBI agent let out a sigh as he stowed the phone back into his pocket.

"Keep an eye on him" said Sturgeon to a person by his side as he watched the doors to Tanaka's elevator closed.

* * *

August 28, 2015

Somewhere above Osean mainland

---

"Everything is going well I assume" said a male voice over the audio conference.

"All according to plan. We'll keep them distracted by the Space Defense Front and the Gray Men" replied a female voice.

"They are both nothing but dummy organizations filled with simpletons and kept alive by us. At least, like you said, they're useful as bait" said another male voice.

"Even so, something bothers me. Why did the bomb go off outside the shuttle? It sustained minor damage where it should have been destroyed. Did Trent fail?" a third male voice asked.

"It doesn't matter. What's important is the result. It was enough make the nations suspect one another. We cannot have the world united, not like this" the only female voice said.

"What if Trent was discovered?"

"Gentlemen," said the female voice again, "focus on the task at hand. We are past the point-of-no-return. Each of you knows the price of failure. The attack tomorrow must occur as scheduled. I will take care of the rest, including Trent"

"And how are you going to do that?"

"There's one man and his machine that could be a great ally to have on our side"

"Are you sure? He betrayed his organization before. Who's to say he will work for us?" the first male voice asked.

"You leave that to me. Being a man, he can't refuse what I'm offering him"


	3. Chapter 3

The Path She Chose

* * *

Sand Island Base

December 07, 2010

Nagase's memory

---

"There's no use talking to that blockhead Base Commander. He treated the president like a fool because of his peace policies" I said.

"What about his Adjutant, Captain Hamilton?" asked Grimm.

"Right. Captain and I will talk to Hamilton, Grimm, you go let Pops and Genette know"

As Archer, Blaze and I taxied into our respective, adjoining hangars, we immediately noticed something odd: the hangars are devoid of life when at least a few mechanics should be on duty each time the squadron returned from sortie.

"Captain, something's wrong" Grimm noted.

A few seconds passed before he finally replied on the radio, "…bring your pistols along and proceed as Edge suggested. Stay alert"

Ever since our Cruik Fortress sortie, Blaze had been strange. He seemed distracted as if preoccupied with something and was much quieter than usual, forgetting to crack even one of his crappy jokes. When we met up at the corridor leading to the stairs of the Offices building, he suddenly grabbed my shoulders and pinned me to a wall. He then stared at me so seriously and intently for a few dozen seconds without saying a word. Those seconds seemed to be much longer in my perspective as we stood there looking at each other in the empty, dimly-lit corridor. If it weren't for the lack of lighting, he would have noticed my burning cheeks.

"Captain" I finally broke the silence, "what are you-"

I stopped when his serious face turned into a gentle smile. He let go of my shoulders, straightened up and let out a deep breath. His overall demeanor seems to be much more relaxed than it was before

"I will go to Hamilton" he said, "Nagase, you join up with Pops and Genette. Get to the armory and arm yourselves"

"What happening?" I asked.

"Trust me" he replied, "now go"

He waited until I rounded the corridor before moving on. Naturally, I had no intention of leaving him alone. I tailed him to the 4th floor corridor leading to Hamilton's office. The adjutant –looking hurried- was about to exit his office when Blaze elbowed him in the face. I could see his body falling over as the office door closed. After quickly shrugging off my shock at Blaze's action, I crept up to the door.

"Hamilton" Blaze said, not bothering to address the rank, "care to explain?"

"Wilhelm Grunder Schulz," said Hamilton, his voice lower, "if you weren't Grunder's favorite nephew, I would have you killed long ago for your arrogance"

"We were never friends so let's quit this charade. Why did the 8492nd ambush us?"

"Us?" Hamilton asked, "I see. So those two are your friends now, traitor"

"Stop stalling" Blaze warned.

"The Wardog has been too effective in its role in this stupid conflict. The 108th TFS must be buried, your wingmen must have died at Cruik; that was your mission. But you failed. The higher-ups deemed you a threat and tasked the 8492nd to set up an ambush"

"What about Joseph? Did he agree to this?" Blaze asked.

"Your uncle was the one who gave the order for the ambush. Knowing that self-righteous man, I bet he can spin the result both ways. If you died, he would gain respect of getting rid of your squadron. If you survived, he could boast the superiority of his blood and secure his position within the consortium"

"If I survived?"

"You will be sent to Sudentor for retraining- you know what that means"

"Brain wash…" Blaze reiterated.

"So what now?" Hamilton asked.

Blaze remained quiet.

"If you let me live, I will make sure you can't escape this base" Hamilton warned.

"I didn't come here just to see you" Blaze said, and after a pause, continued, "you were just a bonus. I came for this"

"Remote detonator?" Hamilton asked. "Ah, hahaha…I see. You were prepared. That was clever. I would never have searched my own office"

"Now stand up" Blaze ordered. "Turn around"

"Schulz," Hamilton said, "if you walk out of that door, you won't be welcome in whichever world emerges victorious out of this conflict"

"I know…" Blaze said, "But I chose poorly out of spite, out of anger for the death of my parents, and I want to amend for it"

"To each his own reasons, huh? Sadly, I don't have your courage how much I detest the Gray Men's methods. All I want is South Belka's freedom, and they are the only ones who can deliver it"

"It's never about what's right. It's about who wins" Blaze said. "The winner shapes his version of history"

"At least we agreed on one thing" Hamilton replied.

A few seconds of silence passed before I heard a noise akin to the hard object hitting a person's skull. The 'thud' that ensued confirmed my mental image of Hamilton collapsing after being struck by Blaze's pistol. Moments later, an explosion in the vicinity of the base's power generators rocked the building and shut off all power to the entire base.

* * *

I don't know why, but seeing my former flight lead for the first time in years made me remember long forgotten memories. That night was when I first found out the truth about him. Back then, I didn't realize what Hamilton's words, "You won't be welcome there," meant. But after the international Gray Men hunt of 2011 and the fact that Wilhelm was related to the chairman of Grunder Industries by blood, I understood. Though Harling promised to protect us by keeping our true identities out of his 2013 official report and referring to the Sand Island pilots with their callsigns only, he cannot protect Blaze from prosecution or risk his own reelection campaign. Perhaps that's why Blaze chose to disappear, chose to live the life he does now.

"_I had hoped to protect you by not involving you. I'm sorry for everything" _he said.

Protect, huh? I think I understand him a bit better now, but that doesn't free him from what he did. Taking the blood of those Gray Men scum serves only to dirty his hands, to make him a murderer.

I realize that my hatred for him - putting all my anger towards a dead man -was a tool - the crutch - that enabled me to get as far as I did. But now he's alive, I feel vulnerable, and confused...

But, I know one thing for sure: I want to see him again, I want to ask him everything I feared to ask years ago. And to do that, I must keep doing me job.

* * *

Airbus A380-900

Flight 413 to Lyons, Usea

Altantic Ocean

August 28, 2015

Present Day

---

When I came to that day, the battle was still raging and Wilhelm was nowhere to be found. I made my way back to the convention hall and managed to slip back into crowds. Like that abandoner of man said, the SDF were no match for the defenders. It was somewhat more of a suicide than an attack. When the skirmish ended an hour later, the Space Center sustained only minor damage with critical structures except for the launch pad of the mass driver escaping unscathed. Of course, that meant the shuttle launch had to be rescheduled and the whole Peacemaker project stalled.

Once I reactivated my mobile phone, there were multiple voices messages: one from Tanaka, who I texted back, while the rest from that irritating boss of mine, demanding details of the attack and ordering me on the first flight back to Interpol HQ. We have always butted heads on most matters but in rare cases like this one, we both agreed that a huge can of worms is going to come out of yesterday's incident.

I can already see one worm coming out of that can. It's in the form of money, money that I had to spend to get this first flight back to Lyons, Usea. Osea grounded all commercial air traffic for a day, the 27th, so getting the earliest flight back isn't cheap. There's no way I'm not footing the bill for this expensive Airbus seat. Interpol had better reimburse me- _sigh_...but I guess there are worst problems now than this, huh?

My attempts at trying to get more details on the Space Center attack led nowhere. The Osean military remained quiet on the matter; only the intelligence agencies of the participating nations of the Peacemaker project were given any information. Different news channels brought 'experts' to discuss matters on national television. But in the end, they could only speculate on what happened.

The voice of a little girl to my right – playing with her mother who was seated next to the aisle - provided a pleasant distraction. For a brief moment, there I thought I saw Sherry, Snow's surviving daughter. The girl next to me seems to about 8 years old, just like her. Since her parents murder, I have been taking care of her. Well, when I say 'taking care', it doesn't mean she lives with me. My job rarely lets me go home, so leaving a kid home alone is irresponsible. I enrolled her in a boarding school on the outskirts of the city of my permanent residence and visited her from time to time when I have the chance. It's been 2 months since I last saw her. She was always cheerful, always smiling; very strong for someone her age. I'm surprised she wasn't broken by the sight of her family dying before her eyes.

Looking at my reflection on the oval-shaped window to my right, I thought: I could never be like as strong as her. Despite appearances, events easily change me. Surprised? I would expect you to be. I never told anyone this, but my father was an OAF colonel who wanted me to serve in the army. I followed his wishes, at least for a while, and enlisted at 19 years old, becoming a medic. My old man was never a kind man. I didn't know what mother saw in him. She kept mentioning the goodness in him and that he was just stressed out at work. But everything I saw was of the contrary: he rarely comes home and on the occasion he does, he was often times drunk. He never did this before but one night I came home to find him abusing mother. That was the last straw. I snapped. All I could remember was breaking one of his arms.

My mother divorced him and we moved to another city. I enlisted in the OADF to support the both of us and to spite my old man who had repeatedly voiced his resentment towards the air force. He sent us letters every year expressing his regret for what he did but we never replied. Eventually the letters stopped and we severed all contact…

... I haven't noticed it till now, but the starry night sky outside is so beautiful. It was as beautiful as seeing it from the cockpit of a jet. But from the bubble canopy, everything was much closer, much more personal . . . I loved that life, at least until the Gray Men took it away from me. I won't stop until they are all destroyed.

But would exacting revenge really solve everything? I kept asking myself that question even though I know there's no simple answer to it. Gandhi once said "an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." It sounds simple enough but how many of us actually appreciate the depth of those words? Many of the world's problems were caused by human nature: greed, desire, lust – of people hurting others. But the problems propagate because we want "justice", we want revenge for wrongs done unto us. I know logically I'm doing my job for the wrong reasons, but my heart desperately wants to exact this justice, to make those people feel the hurt I'm feeling. But, as to what end, I haven't figured that part out.

_...Yawn_…I like thinking such things: they lull me to sleep better than counting sheep… Come to think of it, I haven't slept in 30 hours…

* * *

Nagase awoke to the sounds of screams. They were coming from the front of the aircraft, past the blue-white curtains which separated the different compartments from view. Rather than the screams themselves, noise similar to small-arms fire that accompanied those screams worried her more. Since the female detective was seated in the window side front row, she approached the blue-white curtain separating the rearmost compartment - where she was in - from the one in front. A woman suddenly barged through the port side curtain, knocking Nagase down onto the leg space of her seat. The mother of the girl seated next to her tried to help her up, but the detective was distracted by the earlier woman who knocked her down being shot dead.

A man carrying a micro-Uzi entered the compartment soon after, joined by three others on both the starboard and port aisles. Though no one seemed to be breathing for one second, all hell broke loose the next second when the four men started opening fire indiscriminately. The first man that entered aimed the gun towards the girl's mother and Nagase and opened fire. The former pilot felt a sharp pain on one part of her body as bullets poured into the mother on top of her, shielding her from certain death. The woman's collapsed body shielded Nagase from view of the killers. She could only watch in horror as the girl's head, shock evident on her face, tumbled to the side from the impact force of a bullet.

The next moments were chaotic: screams, gunfire, and the smell of gunpowder and fresh blood filled the air. She didn't understand what was going on. Thinking it was all a nightmare, she closed her eyes and bit the inside of her lip. The taste of blood, the persisting pain on the left side of her body, the weight of the woman on top of her and the open, lifeless eyes of the girl staring at her from her death seat confirmed that she's indeed in a nightmare, albeit a real one. Those men were really killing off passengers. As the gunfire moved further away from the lower to the upper compartment of the double-decked aircraft, she looked down, finally noticing her hands trembling.

Edge didn't know how much time passed before the screams stopped and before her trembling hands calmed down. When it did, the eerie silence that ensued was unnerving. Occasional rat-tat-tat of weapons fire silenced groans of wounded survivors. Although the former pilot dared not move, she couldn't even if she tried. Any act of trying to move the still-warm body of the woman on top of her was painful. Plus, it could give her location away.

Despite that, ICPO detective knew she couldn't stay like this forever. Blood loss will kill her. To her advantage, however, the aircraft began pitching down; it was descending at a much faster rate than legally allowed. The steep descent angle directed some of the woman's weight away, allowing Nagase to push her off with much less effort than before. She gritted my teeth, pressed down on her wound and pulled on to the nylon strip of the seat belts as she got up to her feet. The scene that greeted her was horrifying. Blood splatters painted the compartment in some sort of sadistic abstract art. Blood dripped onto head and shoulders due to the aircraft's steep descent. The feel, sight and stench of death were so overwhelming that she almost vomited her dinner out. Only the pain of her contracting abdominal muscles prevented it from happening. She stumbled into the lavatory separating her compartment from the forward one and rummaged through the mirror cabinet to find a small bottle of alcohol. Biting down hard on a pillow, she poured the antiseptic onto the bullet wound. The immense pain drew tears from her eyes.

_"No pain, no gain, no pain, no gain"_, she thought repeatedly despite how inappropriate the use of the proverb was.

As Nagase finished dressing her wound using the covers to the pillow, the A380 began leveling out. She peeked around the door of the lavatory and cautiously moved towards the front of the aircraft. Similar grim scenes greeted her at each compartment. She initially stopped to check for pulses, hoping for survivors, but after a dozen or so, gave up. She would go mad if she sees another open pair of dead eyes. Despite all the shooting, however, the plane interior was relatively unharmed. There weren't any bullet holes.

"_The ammo used must not have been armor piercing,"_ she thought, looking out at the window which showed the dark, 4:00 am sky and ground moving up quickly towards the plane. _"And the speed at which they went about doing these. Must be professionals"_

The sole survivor of the shooting turned on the nearest head-rest monitor and realized that they were already over land, Usean land. Seconds of rough vibrations followed as the large aircraft performed a belly-landing on a largely empty plain. Only several power poles – which were effortlessly swept away by the massive 500-ton plane - stood in its way.

She hid at the sound of voices coming from the cockpit portion of the plane. Their voices drew closer until Nagase saw their feet entering the compartment she was in. Her heart beat quickened by each step they took towards her. To make matters worse, the dressing to her wound was already soaked with blood. But then the feet stopped in front of the port side emergency exit hatch. One man opened it and deployed an air-inflated rubber ramp.

"Our ride is waiting" said one man in Osean, but with a distinct accent the ICPO detective couldn't recognize.

"Now there's only one thing left to do" said another deeper voice.

She jumped slightly at a gunshot 'bang' and saw the owner of one pair of feet collapsing. The remaining 4 men moved out of view and down the ramp. When Nagase peeked out the window, she could only see a pair of headlights disappearing into darkness.

"_This certainly can't be a hijacking. What kind of hijacker kills all his hostages, lands the plane as if wanting it to be found, then runs away?" _Nagase asked herself the rhetorical question. "_This is terrorism"_

She struggled onto her feet and moved closer to the recently-shot man with a gunshot wound to his right cheek. His eyes noticed and looked at her, but the rest of his body seemed to immobile. Kicking the micro-Uzi off his left hand, she heard him trying to speak despite blood clogging up his mouth and drenching the mask he was wearing. Confident the man was no longer a threat, she inched closer to his face.

"Emmeria… not fault… mistake …Pleas-" he trailed off, breathing his last.

* * *

A/N: Yay. 2 reviews. Thanks yellow and patriot. The first 3 conversation lines of this chapter are credited to AC5 game. And my inspiration for the latter part is credited to Makarov and IW. Players of Modern Warfare 2, you know what I'm talking about. *wink*.


	4. Chapter 4

The Path He Chose

* * *

December 31, 2010

Oured Bay, Osea

Blaze's memory

---

"Heimeroth, this coming world has no place for people like us" Blaze said.

The two planes – ADF-01 and Su-47 – faced each other and began firing their guns. At the same time as the Berkut's gun rounds punched a hole through the Falken's COFFIN cockpit just inches from the head of its occupant, the latter plane's tracer rounds zipped past the incoming missiles and ripped through the cockpit of Heimeroth's craft, blood splattering in the canopy.

_"It's done…"  
_

Amidst the Falken's shuddering airframe, Blaze relaxed his grip on the control sticks.

_"I'm sorry, Kei."_

On the verge of missile impact, however, Falken's control sticks wrung themselves out of the pilot's weak grip. The aircraft's remaining engine began full burn, aligning the prototype fighter upwards and in such a way that the two missiles flew past the thinnest part of the plane's fuselage just behind the cockpit and in front of the air intakes. Time seemed to slow as Blaze watched the hexagonal panel of the ADF-01's COFFIN system displaying the two AIM-9X missiles passing so close he could hear the grinding noise of one missile grazing against the plane's stabilizer fin.

Having lost their target, the missiles slammed into each other a few meters away from the plane, sending shrapnel and shockwaves which repulsed the Falken. Because the left side of his body experienced positive G and the right, negative G during the entire duration of the maneuver, Blaze choked and coughed when the plane finally leveled out.

Despite having survived certain destruction, however, the Falken was in no excellent condition. The left front canard had bent, the left engine is dead and both wings were riddled with holes - the left from gunfire and the right from the earlier explosion. The multi-million dollar super plane was simultaneously dying and losing altitude.

Instinctively, Blaze gripped the control sticks again and nursed the aircraft as gently down as he could onto the water surface. Just as he touched down, a bright explosion in the northwest sky occurred. It brought a smile to the Razgriz lead's tired face only momentarily. He had expected to die, but his hands somehow refused to let him crash into the bay. Even the plane – in blatant objection to his death wish – was drifting east with the waves, refusing to sink. That was when he noticed a message "I want to live" blinking on blue LCD screen of the right console as well as realized that Lunaire – Falken's operating system/combat support AI– was much more than he originally thought.

"What do I do now?" he whispered, asking no one in particular while still looking that the words "I want to live"

"Live. . . That- isn't a bad desire" he said, before daring the question: "…How intelligent are you?"

"I'm incomplete. My time with you can help me grow" the words appeared in reply.

An average person would have been surprised by the response, but Blaze – exhausted from a nearly endless 48-hour flight- simply sighed. He ejected the cockpit's canopy, closed his eyes and relaxed. Several minutes passed as the sound of the waves, the warmth of the rising sun and the gentle sea breeze filled his senses.

"Will you help me?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes" Lunaire replied simply without need for further clarification on what 'help' referred to.

"_You said the Gray Men were still strong and large in numbers"_ he thought, remembering Heimeroth's words. "_But I will make sure every single one of you disappear"_

* * *

August 28, 2015

Present Day

San Francine

Osea

Sandstone Galleria shopping centre underground car park

---

"wilhelm…Wilhelm" the female voice grew louder, "Blaze"

Wilhelm Schulz slowly opened his eyes. In the driver seat of his dark blue, original-model Fiat Panda, the 28 year old yawned. With the excess carbon dioxide exhaled, he looked at his digital wristwatch which read 0220 hrs.

"Still early, Lunaire. The meeting is not until 3 am" he said, glancing at a laptop on the passenger's seat to his left.

"You wanted me to keep track on Kei Nagase" the AI said through the earpiece the former pilot's wearing.

"Like always-wait, what happened?" he asked, noting something wrong.

"She is fine" Lunaire assured him. "She is the protective custody of the Usean Army"

"Explain"

"I will summarize the contents of Usean Army's preliminary report: Flight 413 went down over an hour ago on Usea's southern coastline. Except Kei Nagase, the remaining 475 passengers and crew - most of them Osean - perished. They were gunned down, including the two air marshals on duty. The two seemed to be targeted first as their sidearms were still holstered. Based on the sole survivor's account, at least 8 men went on a shooting spree. They then escaped after landing the plane. One of the shooters – identified as an Emmerian agent- was found dead with a gunshot wound to the head"

"Emmerian?"

"I took the liberty of infiltrating the Emmerian intelligence network and tapping into the heavy communication traffic among Osea, Usea and Emmeria"

"What have you found?"

"Emmeria claimed the agent was on undercover assignment with a suspected terrorist organization - United Front - operating within Estovakia. His mission was to gain their trust, supply Emmeria with intelligence regarding the organization's operations, and if possible, dismantle UF from within. He had gone dark since his last correspondence a week ago"

"So much for gaining trust. Now Emmeria's in a whole world of trouble"

"They have no proof linking UF to Estovakia, and the only fact that can be proven was the Emmerian agent's involvement in the massacre"

"Does the public know?"

"The Usean and Osean government are putting out a cover story: Flight 413 crashed due to unknown sources. There were no survivors"

"It seems Harling wants to talk things over first. What about the UF? Have they claimed responsibility?"

"No. But some details of the attack has been leaked on the Internet and to the media"

"Something doesn't feel right. The Space Center and now this – two major incidents within the span of two days. Unlike most terror organizations, the SDF and UF didn't publicly claim responsibility for their actions. Instead, there are these 'leaks'. There must be something else going on we aren't seeing, something bigger than the Gray Men. We have been hunting them for five years; they can't have the resources to orchestrate these attacks" he said, his voice increasingly agitated. "We even got the wrong man yesterday: Amansal wasn't responsible for the bomb in the Space Center. He was only a money handler, not a saboteur. If not for you taking control of the repair drone and relocating that bomb, the shuttle would have been gone. We got lucky, that's all"

"I'm sorry" the AI said.

"No, I'm not blaming you..." he breathed out.

"_I keep forgetting Lunaire's an AI. Her speech pattern is becoming more and more humanlike, I feel like talking to an actual person. But… if it weren't for her presence, I would have gone mad years back"_

Having calmed down, he reached towards the vehicle's back seat and rummaged through miscellaneous items such as M67 grenades, various types of ammo, gentlemen's magazines and empty water bottles in search of a bag of chips he purchase late last night at a nearby 7/11 store.

"Have you found anything more on Amansal?" he asked.

"Neucom Inc's involvement with the Space Center incident seems to end with him. The rest of the company leadership has no known relationship to his activities or to the Gray Men. I'm following other trails now"

"Good" Blaze said at the same time as he found the bag of chips.

"Wilhelm, such food is not nutritious. You need to keep better care of yourself" the AI said, looking at him through the laptop's video camera.

"MSG is My Super Good best friends forever" he said, attempting to make a joke out of the acronym of My Super Good.

After a few seconds pause, the AI monotonously said, "…a ha, ahahahaha"

"Ok, ok. Stop rubbing it in" he said.

"My study of your race led me to the conclusion that humans desire wealth. Yet you declined using the funds we siphoned off bank accounts of known criminals, and chose to live like this: eating instant food, receiving handouts at a homeless shelter, living in a car…"

"Not always in a car. Sometimes I spend the night at that homeless shelter-" he stopped upon realizing what he said didn't help his case. "I get what you are trying to say. But we cannot afford attracting unnecessary attention by using carelessly using those funds. We need them for equipment and manpower for use in missions. Besides, the money's all you. I did nothing to deserve that"

"Your well-being is essential to the success of our operations"

"Yeah, well . . . what about your General Resources hack-in?" he asked, switching the topic of conversation.

"I'm still trying to crack their security. It has been strengthened multiple folds since I last accessed their mainframe"

"General Resources was restructured from Grunder Industries, your creator. Could they have known how to detect you?" Blaze asked.

"I have wiped all records of Project Lunaire and my code now is almost completely different than it was 5 years ago. There's a 0.002 percent chance that they can replicate the project, and 0.01 percent they can deter my entry. Since I'm running sixteen other processes in parallel, the process will take longer. But I will get through eventual-"

"You found something?" he asked, noting Lunaire's incomplete sentence.

"Trent, Albert, an Osean computer programmer for Exaburn Technologies, a subsidiary of General Resources. Exaburn specializes in military software technology. Trent was the company's representative in the Peacemaker project and was present in the Space Center." she said at the same time as the man's picture appeared on the laptop monitor. "3 days ago, security cameras in the vicinity of the mass driver launch pad systematically outputted a pre-recorded footage for 2 hours. Being one of the lead engineers, Trent had access – and the expertise – to program the cameras for such a task"

"And with the facility blind, he planted those bombs" Blaze proposed.

"Starting from seven months ago, sums of money were wired to his bank accounts in various countries. And just last week, almost all were withdrawn"

"I assume the Space Defense Front is involved?"

"Possibly. In one transaction, funds were transferred from an account belonging to a Gray Men sympathizer who also had connections to the SDF. We terminated that man 4 months ago" Lunaire informed.

"It's always the money that gets these people"

"If had noticed the connection then, the incident in the Space Center could have been avoided" the AI said.

"No use saying that now. Where is this Trent?" he asked.

"Bank records, employment history, family connections, everything is either a decoy or a dead end. Trent disappeared completely after yesterday's incident. I'm still sorting through the data"

"He must either be dead or have some powerful friends" Blaze remarked. "Well, I suppose we have to see if this coming meeting will bear any fruit"

A few minutes later, Lunaire – while showing a CCTV feed of a camera at the underground parking lot's entrance – said, "A vehicle. One driver. Woman. No passengers"

"She's early" he said, glancing at his wrist watch again.

"Password confirmed. I'm opening the gate" Lunaire said.

As the silver-colored BMW 320i descended the ramp at the north end of the car park, Blaze checked the ammo to, and armed, his USP45. The silver M3 stopped 20 meters from the blue Panda. The former vehicle's driver then shut off the engines and turned on the internal lights to illuminate herself. In response, Blaze turned on the Panda's headlights to obstruct her view of him in the dark, deserted car park.

"Looks like Bishop gave her clear instruction on how I wanted this to go" Blaze said, glad that Bishop - one of his informants – did as told. _"Still, where have I seen her before?"_

"Plate number check and face recognition complete," Lunaire said after scanning the occupant of the M3, "Driver and owner of vehicle is Lahm, Helmine, Ose-"

"Who?" he interjected.

"Helmine Lahm-"

"Bishop said her name was Ophelia Len. Are you sure?" he interrupted again.

"I'm seeing her face through the camera installed in your glasses and cross-referenced her to various databases. Yes. I am sure" the AI said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. "Your abnormal speech pattern reveals you are familiar with the name, perhaps even known the person. Who is she?"

"…I knew one person by that name. A Belkan. She was my childhood friend, my only best friend for many years. We separated a year before I joined the OADF. Joseph Grunder later told me she died. I haven't heard of her name until now"

"This Helmine Lahm is Osean. 26 years old. A secretary at Exaburn Technologies"

"Exaburn? That was the company Trent worked for…Let's see what she has to offer. Might be information on Trent" he said.

"Wilhelm, she arrived earlier than scheduled and her name did not match up with the one provided by the contact. Those should be grounds enough for us to terminate this meeting. Don't let your past relationship lead you into a trap" warned the AI.

Although Lunaire's warning makes sense, Blaze really wanted to know the connection between the Helmine of his past to the one in front of him.

"You think this woman is an impostor?" Blaze asked.

"It is always a possibility"

"Was there anything suspicious about the car prior to it arriving here?" he asked.

"At 0216, the vehicle was first recorded on the city's CCTV exiting the M3 highway by the Toma Priela ramp. It proceeded straight here, making only traffic light stops"

"What about our surrounding area?"

"Nothing worth of notice" the AI replied.

"Then, there's little chance of things going wrong" the former pilot said.

"…Very well" Lunaire conceded.

With the approval of his companion, Blaze rolled down his window and said, "Get out of the car and take 10 steps towards me"

"I am not armed" the female driver said, complying.

Blaze watched as the woman – illuminated by the Panda's headlights – took the 10 steps, her hands high in the air. The man also exited his car and, using the Panda's door as a shield, aimed his weapon at her.

"Undress" he said.

After a moment's pause, she did as told and began stripping off her white blouse and form-fitting, knee-length black skirt.

"_Her voice, her hair color, the resemblance is uncanny. Older, yes, but some much like her,"_ he thought, observing her short brown hair and the green eyes within her pretty, makeup-less and emotionless face down to her slender neck and appropriately proportioned body and to her long legs underneath a pair skin-colored stockings.

"Put them back on" the man said after seeing no weapons on her.

"We need not worry about communication devices. We are underground. Radio signals can't penetrate this much concrete" Lunaire said.

He waited until the woman finished dressing before saying, "walk towards me slowly until I say otherwise"

She did as told, moving towards Blaze until she was 5 meters from the front of the Panda.

"Ophelia Len?" he asked.

"I apologize for the deception. I'm Helmine Lahm. Len was just cover name, for my own protection"

"Protection from what?"

"It is personal" she said, refusing to answer.

"What is this information you offered?"

"It's in a flash drive in my left pocket" she said, taking the object out upon Blaze's approval. "It's about Albert Trent"

"_Of course. How convenient"_ Blaze thought. "I am not the police. Why do you assume I have any interest in that?"

"The law cannot touch men like Trent due to lack of concrete evidence, and if the legal system could, it would take too long to sort the matter out. You, on the other hand, have been particularly efficient in getting rid these sort of people. My employers wish to from a partnership against him and the Gray Men in general"

"What exactly is in the drive?"

"Everything we have about Trent, including a list of his past hiding locations as well as possible associates – both Gray Men or not - who might be sheltering him since his disappearance"

"Who do you work for?" he asked.

"Exaburn Technologies"

"What grievances do your employers have with Trent?"

"Peacemaker project was Exaburn's largest endeavor to date, but Trent - the company's senior engineer- disappeared after yesterday's attack on the Space Center. We can only assume he was complicit with the SDF and perhaps the Gray Men. My employers want justice"

"Justice, or a cover-up?" Blaze asked.

"…Both. My employers want this matter taken care of as soon as possible. Just like what had happened to Neucom when Amansal's identity was revealed, the effect on Exaburn's reputation will be even more devastating if the matter becomes public"

"The fate of Exaburn is none of my concern. What makes you think I want this partnership?" asked Blaze.

"If you weren't, you would not ask so many questions and I would already be dead" she replied.

The corner of Blaze's lips curved slightly in amusement to the woman's defiance. She reminded him of Nagase: bold even when she staring down the end of a gun.

"How did you know about me?"

"By following the trail of death you left behind. Our mutual contact Bishop took care of the rest"

"Are you saying you have proof that I did what you claimed?" he asked, confident that Lunaire has wiped all evidence, if any, of him carrying out his attacks.

"I was told they are unsubstantiated. I'm not sure" she conceded.

"You should be" Blaze warned, his voice low, "I can simply kill you right now for threatening me"

She tensed but remained silent. Because the Panda's headlights were blinding her and preventing her from recognizing Blaze, she stared at a point just above the blue car's roof.

"You seem awfully calm for an office secretary. Who are you, really?"

"Have you agreed to help us in this matter?" she asked.

"Depends on what your answer to my question is. Who are you?"

"Helmine Lahm. I'm a bodyguard for Gerald Edenburg, Chairman of Exaburn"

"Where were you and what were you doing at age 18?"

"What purpose do those questions serve?" she asked, and – due to Blaze's silence – answered: "I was attending Brunsens State University, West Osea"

"_We were together at Sudentor when you were that age. Perhaps you are a different person, after all?" _

"You said you were a bodyguard" the former pilot continued, "Since June 2011, international law prohibits civilian companies from any form of private security. Your job is illegal"

"From my point of view, you now have evidence that you can use against Exaburn"

"And like you said, it is unsubstantiated," Blaze said, "Even if I have a recording of your words, they can simply wipe records of you ever working for them. Should be easy for a high-profile software corporation. To them, you are just an expendable asset"

"Then where are we?" she finally asked after a few seconds of silence, a drop of sweat rolling down her left cheek.

"Is information the only thing your employers will provide?" he asked.

"Monetary compensation, and me"

"You?" he asked.

"Trent has possession of top-secret materials. I was tasked to retrieve or destroy it" she explained. "I'm trained in the use of various firearms and modern surveillance equipment. You would find me a useful asset"

"That should be enough questions. What do you think?" Blaze whispered.

"Her breathing, pulse and heart rate seem to support the honesty of her statements, but she could have been physically trained to hide lies. I would talk a look at the flash drive before deciding" Lunaire replied.

"Hand me the flash drive" the spectacled man said.

Catching the thumb-sized drive Lahm threw him, he inserted it in one of the USB ports of the laptop. Even if the drive was booby-trapped, it posed no threat to Lunaire since the AI in Blaze's notebook is just a dummy copy which functions as firewalls. The dummy is constantly connected to her core code - stored in a safe location - via the Internet. The laptop, an OS-based machine that the AI can inhabit, is just an effective interface Blaze used to communicate with her.

"Anything?" he asked the AI while keeping his eyes on Lahm.

A good couple dozen seconds passed before Lunaire – displaying a world map with dots marking Trent's possible locations - answered, "If the data in the drive are reliable, we now have a much higher chance of getting Trent. I recommend proceeding with this for the time being. But, it's your choice"

"I need to find out more on this woman, on her connection to the Helmine of my childhood" Blaze said.

"I predicted as much" the AI replied.

Blaze smiled slightly at Lunaire's support. But little did he know that the thumb drive contained much more information: data on a "Project Helmine" that the AI chose to hide from him.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews Drake, Yellow and the unnamed guy. ME2 coming out next week, yay.


	5. Chapter 5

A Fresh Goal

* * *

August 30, 2015

Interpol HQ 4th floor

Lyons

Usea

---

Her computer monitor and the lamp on her cubicle desk the only things illuminating the dark room around her, Kei Nagase yawned as she closed a clear-cover file folder. She glanced at the monitor clock which read 3:12 AM, and leaned her forehead down onto the desk using her forearms as cushions. The detective had never felt so tired in a long time.

Until a couple of hours ago, the 26-year-old was kept in – as the Usean military called - 'protective' custody. But to her, it was more like hours after hours of interrogation, first by Usean investigators then Osean asking her details to the attack on Flight 413. The fact that both sets of investigators - instead of collaborating with one another - asked her similar questions showed the growing distrust between Usea and Osean. To prove this hypothesis, Nagase returned to ICPO HQ and found out the deceased SDF members - identified after the battle - were from varying nationalities: Osea, Yuktobania, Usea, Sapin, Emmeria, Ustio and many others. Even though the space center attack could be classified as a failure, it caused the previously friendly nations to begin suspecting one another. If the latter was SDF's intentions, then they were successful beyond their wildest expectations, especially when Emmeria's involvement in the Flight 413 massacre was revealed.

Despite such problems, Nagase prioritized only one issue: Wilhelm Schulz. When she used Amansal as bait, she had never expected her former flight lead to be the person she was aiming for, a person she thought was dead, a person she dumped all her hatred into to drive her forward. But now that his identity was revealed, she felt refreshed for she now had a new goal to attain. But at the same time, she felt confused for the new knowledge gave her more questions than answers.

Despite Blaze's claim that an AI had been supporting him, he can't have stayed hidden for as long as he did. Her attempts at further investigations were often times stonewalled. Even other law/ intelligence agencies following up on his trail came up with nothing. Someone – especially one with power – must be covering him. If so, who is this person? And for what purpose?

Furthermore, Blaze's modus operandi were usually low-profile. The deceased Gray Men collaborators – those who had escaped the law or were acquitted by court due to lack of evidence – were found in the most discreet manner of death as humanly possible and many days - and even months - after their deaths. One example was Tomas Ferrer, a Sapiniard drug lord, who was killed in an explosion-induced landslide on his way to a mountain bungalow. The landslide occurred during a rainy season, thus no one suspected foul play until Nagase obtained soil samples which tested positive for cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine, a major component in C4. Tomas and his entourage weren't found until after a month when dig teams tasked with clearing the hillside roads found them in the coffins of their vehicles. A more recent example was Geofrey Amansal. His death was quick, caused by a stab wound from behind straight to the heart. He was probably dead before he touched the ground. The murder weapon hasn't been found since either.

But if Schulz's kill methods were so discreet, why are some deaths – such as the one befallen Nagase's mother – so gruesome, so high-profile? Knowing Blaze's character, Nagase thought he can't have committed such things. But then again, time changes people. If so, was he acting out of emotions then? Or was there another party involved? To answer these questions, however, Nagase knew she had to spin the evidence against her former flight lead, to accuse him of being a Gray Men conspirator so she can gain the jurisdiction to pursue him.

_"There's on other way..."_

* * *

"Hey, wake up!" Yalen Ozer – Nagase's boss - loudly said, kicking his subordinate's seat.

The female detective woke and managed to catch herself from falling off. The save, however, caused the folders and papers around and under her arms to fly off the desk.

"What time is it?" Nagase asked, blinking her eyes into focus.

"Are you blind? Use your eyes!" he shouted, drawing the attention of others around Nagase's cubicle.

As Nagase glanced to her computer clock which read 8:05 am, she overheard one of her colleagues saying, "Again? Why is he shouting at her again?"

"Your tone is really unnecessary" Nagase softly asked, keeping her cool as she picked up the fallen documents.

"You disobeyed my orders by not returning yesterday, and now I found you sleeping on the job!" he continued his screams.

"Once more, could you keep your voice down?" she asked.

"I told you to stop working at this trash!" he still shouted, deliberately stepping on several papers.

The relationship between Nagase and Ozer had initially been warm. But as the years go by and with each successful case closure, he became increasingly pompous. Even though little of the work towards those cases was his, he took credit for them. Nagase had always tolerated his horrendous behavior as she prioritized in investigating cases than kissing her boss's ass, and because she spent the majority of her time outside in the field away from him. And more importantly, Ozer's claim over the work meant Nagase could maintain a low-profile in her investigations, which is essential to her safety. No detective wants a target painted on him or her.

But today was different. The pilot-turned-detective had experienced a chaotic 3 days and she was having a headache from lack of sleep. Ozer's shout worsened it, and his stepping on her evidence material pertaining to Schulz was the last straw.

"Get your feet off or I will break your legs" she coldly said, making sure only her boss could hear.

"You have no right to threaten me!" Ozer shouted, still stepping the papers.

Suppressing her urge to maim the man, Nagase stood up and placed whatever document she could recover back on her desk.

"You think you are a brilliant detective?" she asked calmly but loudly enough so that everyone within 10 meters from her could hear. "Shit like you can't even be a trash eating mongrel. All those cases were investigated by me and the reports were written by Kendra. All you did was submit the materials and claim credit for the whole thing even though you have no clue about the cases"

"Why you-" he said, raising his fist.

"Ozer!" boomed a voice from across the room. "My office now!"

Nagase - in response to Ozer's getting physical - would have clobbered the black-haired, thin jawed, thin eyed man to the ground if Gerald Young – the department head - hadn't stopped them.

"Yes, sir" Ozer said, his face relaxing as he turned around to face Young. "I'll be there right now, sir"

Almost everyone that had been watching the heated discussion between Nagase and her superior were shaking their heads in disbelief at Ozer. The former pilot simply sighed as she bent back down to pick up the documents bearing Ozer's shoeprints.

"Wow, that's the first time you raised your voice like that" Kendra Welmington – Nagase's closest colleague –said, helping the former pilot.

"Don't bother. I'll do it myself" the black-haired woman said.

"You – the workaholic – sleeping on piles of paper and dropping them when you wake up, and me helping you pick them up: this scene happens just about everyday, I'm used to it. I'm just sorry I arrived late today. That shit Ozer got to you first. You are alright, right?" the blonde Usean native asked, smiling.

"Don't worry about it" Nagase replied, returning the smile.

"I was glad to hear your voice when you called two days ago. That space center attack was unexpected. We and the guys on 5th floor were running around like headless chicken yesterday" she said, handing her a thin pile of paper. "When did you get back?"

Nagase –straightening up - remembered signing a non-disclosure agreement of her involvement in Flight 413. Even though she was told the agreement was for her own protection, she knew it was more due to Osea's and Usea's wish to keep the matter under wraps. As much as she trusted Welmington – her best friend for three years – she didn't want to complicate the already volatile incident by revealing what she knew.

"Last night, about 9 pm. I couldn't get an earlier flight back" she lied.

"And I'm glad you couldn't. You might have ended up on flight 413. So tragic. I can't believe anyone could do such a thing"

"I'm sure there are more atrocities out there. We just don't know them"

"You are right" Welmington said, switching her eyes from Nagase to Young's office. "Looks like he's trying to butter Young up again. We both know it wouldn't work against that smart old man"

"I'm going to talk to Young" Nagase said.

"About what you just said? Good, that should get that bastard Ozer fired"

"No, not about that"

"Then what- oh, so that's what these documents were for, you will finally present this obsession of yours to him. About time. And while you are at it, get Ozer kicked out too, will ya?"

"I'll try" Nagase said, smiling slightly.

"Well, good luck. Let's catch up some more later, girl. Young will bite my head off if I slack off"

Nagase's smiling face turned into a solemn one when she looked back to the documents on her desk and reminded herself what needed to be done.

* * *

Unlike other high-ranking officers' office, Gerald Young's was smaller and plainer. A solitary painting of a fruit basket hung on the otherwise white-painted south wall. Two glass panes served the north and west walls while a third, thicker pane separated the room from the building's exterior. A large wooden desk in the middle of the office, a metal cabinet at one corner, a high-back leather seat and two smaller task chairs flanking the desk, a computer on the desk and a touch-tone telephone completed inventory of the room's observable objects.

Nagase sat at one of the desk chairs, reading from an open folder of documents. Young – a 54 year-old man with white hair and moustache and sharp, penetrating blue eyes - was looking at a copy of the same folder of documents. The female detective then typed into her laptop, changing the contents of its monitor.

"Therefore, I deem it necessary for further investigations into this" Nagase concluded.

"By my understanding, you want me to exercise Provision 14, thereby giving you operational jurisdiction in every member nations in order to apprehend this man" he asked, pointing at the laptop's monitor showing a frozen footage of waiter picking up fallen glasses.

"Yes, sir"

"You claim he was complicit with the Gray Men in their attacks. But on the other side of the table," Young started, "could you also say he was getting rid of them? Seems to me Gray Men conspirators were dying left and right whenever he appears."

Expecting Young – a man known for his sharp observations – to offer that possibility, Nagase countered by saying, "that also crossed my mind. But considering the evidence I have presented which supported my earlier claim, and the lack thereof which supports yours, I considered it more prudent to pursue him as a conspirator rather than a vigilante. The latter is outside our line of investigations"

"I see that your investigation started over 2 years ago. Why did you report this only now?"

"I had no evidence then. Even now, in hindsight, you could say I still have no concrete proof. But time and again a man of his description was accounted for, either through eyewitness records or camera footage, in majors events involving Gray Men members" she said.

"I can't dispute the logic of your reasoning to pursue him as a criminal" Young said. "But I can't invoke Provision 14 as it places the law enforcement agencies of member nations under your jurisdiction. They won't accept speculation and circumstantial evidence as grounds to surrender their powers"

"But-" Nagase objected.

"But" Young continued, preempting her. "That doesn't mean I'm stopping you from continuing your investigations. I will have make Interpol resources available to you"

"T-thank you, sir" Nagase said, beaming.

"Continue your excellent work, detective. But remember, the jurisdiction of local police force still supersedes yours. They may decide to help if they wish, but I expect you to back down if they decide to handle matters on their own." Young reminded her of Interpol's limitation.

"I understand"

"Have you shared all this information with anyone else?" Young asked.

"With my superior Yalen Ozer"

"And what did he say?"

"He dismissed my findings due to lack of concrete evidence" Nagase said, smiling internally when she saw the frown on Young's face.

"Can your words during the earlier dispute between the two of you be proven?"

"Kendra Welmington and I can testify for that, yes. But a more effective method would be asking him details on past cases which our team had worked on"

"Why haven't you reported this?"

"We did not think it more important than our work"

"Hmm" Young simply grunted. "You may go now"

While he did not say it, Nagase had an inkling that Young planned to go beyond suspending Ozer for immature conduct, which he did a few hours ago. Her direct superior's rude, all-knowing behavior had always irritated her. Getting rid of him would improve her and Welmington's working environment. But such thing was trivial to her. Now with Young's support, chasing after her former flight lead was the only thing on her mind.

* * *

A/N: Drake, I played only AC4,5,Zero,6, never Skies of Deception. I don't have a PSP, XD. But when I wiki-ed SoD up, it seems to have a lot of Falken-caliber super planes.


	6. Chapter 6

Fallen Grace

* * *

The massacre of over 850 people abroad flight 413 took the world by surprise. While officially it was reported as an attack by unknown perpetrators, leaked details which implicated Emmeria in the attack had the confused public demanding truth as well as retribution. Harling - not wanting Osea to enter another war - managed to convince them that the rumors were false and that more investigations were needed before taking any aggressive actions.

Behind the scenes, however, the situation was like a volcano about to blow. Osean leaders – enraged by the revelation that one of the attackers found dead on flight 413 was an Emmerian secret agent – demanded answers. In response, the Emmerian government explained that the agent was inserted into the Estovakian terror organization United Front as a strategy to preempt a possible attack on their country; they had no idea of the spy's whereabouts as he had to go dark to achieve his goals. But without proof connecting the terrorists to Estovakia, Emmeria's explanation was hardly sufficient. The only clear evidence was the fact that the spy, instead of stopping the attack, participated in it. The Osea-Emmeria alliance would have broken down if not for the personal visit by the Emmerian prime minister who claimed the agent's death was a plot to drive a wedge between the two nations, and urged Osea to give his country time to prove Estovakia's involvement in the massacre.

Despite the truce, however, the damage to goodwill between the two nations was already done. When the Federal Republic of Estovakia – taking advantage of the situation - declared war on its wealthy neighbor and simultaneously launched surprise attacks on all fronts, Osea - citing neutrality in the conflict – denied Emmeria's requests for aid.

To make matters worse, the Emmerian government – fearing opposition and riots– kept the country's involvement in the airline massacre secret from its citizens. Even the nation's mass media were placed on gag order. As a result, August 30th came as a true surprise.

* * *

August 30, 2015

Gracemeria

East District

Downtown

Regents Road

---

This morning was supposed to be just like any other mornings: the sidewalks busy with people work, the streets packed with vehicles taking people to places they needed to go, and the 20 year old university student – Steven Fedner – dragged his steps, dreading to go to his philosophy class. Abstracts were never his thing; he liked working with numbers best. When a jet aircraft flew overhead, he – being a diehard fan of military hardware - thought his day would brighten up. But then came that first explosion in the distance.

At first they - Fedner, this friend Jim Haringoth, and the people around him- didn't know it was an attack. They watched frozen as more jets flew by, as B-52s opened their bomb bay doors, as C-130 transports dropped their cargos of soldiers, IFVs and light tanks which descended slowly with parachutes and even as the city-wide air raid siren went off. Everything then turned chaotic when the B-52s right above them was hit by a missile and went up in flames. With the bomber falling towards them, people on both sidewalks and in cars of the 4-lane road began running frantically looking for cover in any structure they may find.

"Steve, what the hell are you doing?" Haringoth said, dragging Fedner along as the latter watched mesmerized at a pair of F-16Cs passing the B-52 they just downed.

The black-haired, blue-eyed jet enthusiast finally returned to his senses when the sight of the bomber's burning fireball was interrupted by a building. Haringoth had dragged him around a corner into a side street.

"That fascination of yours will kill you" Jim said as they ran into a convenience store with a few other people.

Just moments after their entry, a vibration caused by the falling B-52 violently shook the ground and cut power to the store. Seconds later, a stray ordinance struck the top of a 6-story building across the narrow street in front of the store and sent rubble falling to the ground, crushing a sedan as well as several people seeking shelter. Gasps and cries of horror filled the store as its occupants retreated from the falling debris which smashed through windows and doors. Things seemed to be hopeless until the store attendant, having found a good reception on the radio of his MP3, turned the device's volume up as high as he can. Two others followed his lead, tuning the radios of their mobile phones.

"We interrupt this program for an emergency news report" said the familiar voice of the morning FM DJ, "Gracemeria is currently under attack by unidentified aircraft. The damage apparently extends to the entire capital"

Worried chatter filled the store in response to the information.

"An intense ground war is taking place in east district. We strongly urge all citizens to stay indoors at this time" continued the DJ.

"What are you doing?" Fedner asked, noticing Haringoth discreetly opening a bag of cookies while the store attendant was distracted by the radio DJ's announcements.

"Shh. Keep it down. I didn't have breakfast, alright?" he said, devouring the chocolate chip goodness.

Constant noises of gunfire, explosions, jet washes and vehicle movements filled the next several minutes. One explosion in the vicinity which blew away soldiers – both whole and in parts –unnerved the already twitchy store occupants, especially when those body parts flew across whatever remained of the store's front.

Almost 20 minutes had elapsed when the battles in the surrounding areas ended, and when it did, the relative silence which came was eerie. There were cries for help coming from outside the store. But no one seemed brave enough to go out and risk life and limb to assist those voices in need. The 19-year-old aerospace engineering student looked to his side at Haringoth, who has stopped his consumption and looked back at his friend.

"This is different than helping old ladies cross the street. This is war. Don't do it man…" he said, shaking his head in objection to Fedner's 'Good Samaritan' tendencies.

With his hands still shaking, Fedner inched towards the front of the store, stepping and jumping over pieces of concrete and rebars. When he was just at the store's door, he listened for the sounds of battle which have indeed died down. Even though the street was too narrow and buildings too tall to get a fuller view of the sky, it too no longer seems to be falling.

"That's what I like to here. Our Air Force is holding down the enemy. Keep it up!" said the DJ over the radio.

That gave Fedner the push he needed to step out on to the side street. He ran towards the sources of the earlier voice onto Regentss Road, finally seeing the extent of damage done to one of the busiest and cleanest, but now lifeless and chaotic, streets in the capital city. The offices on both sides of the roads bore battle wounds; the windows of those offices were shattered; dead bodies – civilian and military- lined the sidewalks; numerous cars were either crushed or on fire, their occupants still inside; charred armored vehicles – acting like steel coffins for its occupants - lay destroyed along the length of the road. Fedner - averting his eyes from such sight – found a woman still alive trapped under a pile of rocks a few meters from him. Not far from her, several collapsed tall buildings had formed a mountain of rubble which blocked the entire 4-car-lane road. The tail of the fallen B-52 was barely visible under the rubble.

"Hold on" he told her, lifting the blocks of concrete on her trapped lower body.

"My son" she breathed out, her head red in blood.

Fedner looked around but saw no other souls alive in the immediate area. Deciding that lying to her was the only way to keep her psychologically alive, he lied, saying her son has already sought shelter.

Suddenly, a series of loud explosions ensued. Their volumes and the magnitude of their shockwaves were so strong that the younger man had to curl down, dropping the head-sized boulder he was carrying to cover his ears. He looked up and saw several huge orange fireballs in the sky which consumed numerous Emmerian planes.

"Are you alright?" Fedner asked, looking back at the motionless woman. "Lady! Can you hear me?"

"Uh…" she groaned, giving the student a much needed reassurance that she's still alive.

His efforts at freeing her was interrupted again by a jet engine whoosh overhead. Looking up, he saw eight Su-33 Flanker-Ds in a red-black color scheme engaging the surviving, but still larger in number, Emmerian planes. However, by the time Fedner freed the woman from under the rocks, the Emmerian numerical superiority amounted to nothing. He watched an F-18 being gunned down followed by another turning into flames due to a missile hit.

Trying hard not to be captivated by the air battle he so wanted to see since he was a child, Fedner carried the woman back to the side-street where Haringoth and a few other people– having gathered enough courage– stood just outside the store doors. Other people have also started coming out of a restaurant along the street.

"Is there a doctor or someone who knows first aid?!" Fedner shouted.

A man, who introduced himself as a nurse, stepped up to help. The student let the wounded woman down slowly and began walking back to the main street.

"Where are you going now?" Haringoth asked.

"To look for more survivors" he replied.

* * *

Above Gracemeria

---

"Multiple cruise missiles just detonated mid-air! Half our planes have been wiped off the radar!" the Avalanche flight lead transmitted over his radio.

"_You counted?"_ Garuda One thought cynically.

"Where the hell was that? Where are they coming from?" Shamrock asked, flying close behind his flight lead's Falcon as they weaved around cruise missile explosions.

"Enemy cruise missiles incoming" AWACS warned.

"Those aren't ordinary cruise missiles. Evade like hell if you want out of this alive" advised the Windhover lead.

"_Those that didn't died already"_ Talisman thought. _"Stop stating the obvious"_

"Dammit!" cursed Garuda Two, "What about our city? What about Gracemeria?"

"Warning! Additional enemy planes have been spotted on radar. You don't want to know how many" informed Ghost-Eye.

The moment the 8 incoming Su-33s came within visual range, they opened fire. Immediately, 4 F-18s were downed. Two more were destroyed quickly after.

"This is Ghost Eye to all planes: Air defense command has ordered an evacuation. You have been ordered to give up Gracemeria. Break away from this airspace and head west"

"Are you out of your mind? We can't comply with that order" said Windhover leader.

"We are militarily at a huge disadvantage. Comply with the order and head west" AWACS repeated.

"This is Avalanche. We are not going anywhere"

"Listen! It's only temporary. The plan is to withdraw, meet up with all remaining forces from each area, then regroup for another attack. We can't afford to lose you. Follow the order"

"This is Garuda Two. One, we should really get out of here" Shamrock suggested.

"You run if you want. I'm staying" Marie Rivecheg replied.

"Uh-"

"What?" she asked.

"No, nothing!" Shamrock said. _"I thought you were a guy. You hadn't spoke until now"_

"If you are staying, stay alert" the Garuda flight lead said.

"We are out of missiles. We can't fight against higher performing planes like this" informed Shamrock

Without replying to her wingman, Talisman clicked on the trigger button of her control stick and fired a burst to an empty space ahead of a black-red Strigon Su-33 making a tight right. The rounds struck its target which burst into flames. Garuda One pulled the throttle fully back and pulled hard on the stick, causing an incoming missile – which passed in front of the plane - to overshoot. With her plane pointing straight up on the verge of stall, she fired another burst, the projectiles punching holes in the fuselage of another Flanker and destroying it. When another Flanker fired at her, she stepped hard on the right rudder control and pulled the control stick to the bottom right, making the near-stall Falcon spin upon its lateral and longitudinal axes. The gun rounds narrowly missed their target: the F16C's nose.

Shamrock had thought Talisman's kill of the first Su-33 was simply luck, but, as he watched the precise movements of his flight lead's Falcon, he realized he was wrong. It was as if Talisman knew exactly where the enemy planes were. Even a good radar tracking system couldn't produce such movements in a jet: it was often times hampered by the pilot's slow information processing. The only way Garuda One's craft could move as well as it did was due to the pilot's exceptional spatial awareness and reactions. Such skills are rare; no other pilots Garuda Two knew – except for the Osean Wardog lead and the Usean Mobius lead, whom he read from mission reports– had such abilities.

Lampret knew Rivecheg was assigned to Gracemeria AFB yesterday, but they never met. Prior to today, he heard only rumors about a promising 18-year-old pilot who graduated top of his class in flight academy: some said he's a she, some said he got his wings and those high scores simply because he's the kid of General James Rivecheg, a distinguished Emmerian Air Force officer. Apparently, some rumors are wrong. What surprised him more however was the fact that a freshly graduated pilot with no actual combat experience can stand toe-to-toe with, if not best, skilled adversaries in higher-performing planes.

"Stop daydreaming. Move that jet!" Garuda One said, shooting a burst across Shamrock's port side to throw off one Flanker.

"_I thought there's something wrong with my plane, but she just that good" _Garuda Two thought, his confidence rising.

"Negative. You have done enough. Withdraw from the airspace immediately" Ghost Eye repeated.

Her concentration fixed on one Flanker-D which has continuously evaded her, Talisman ignored the order. Although annoyed by missile lock-on warning from the Flanker's 5 wingmen which repeatedly threw her off aim, she was not giving up. The 8-plane aerial skirmish – 2 Emmerian F-16s and 6 Estovakian Su-33s – formed a mesmerizing furball of curving lines of hot air, tracer rounds and flare flashes. When Avalanche team's F-18s joined in, the furball became even more complex.

Finally after a few dozen seconds, their cat-and-mouse game ended when Talisman got into a perfect position for a gun burst: just 33 meters from her target. The pilot clicked the gun trigger but only two rounds exited the F-16's M61 gatling gun barrel: it had run out of ammunition. Despite this, the two 20mm rounds hit its mark, damaging the Strigon lead plane.

At the same time, however, shrapnel from the damaged Flanker found their way into the air intake of the Falcon's F110-GE-100 turbofan engine. The aircraft suffered an engine malfunction and began trailing smoke. Talisman pointed the aircraft down to facilitate air flow into the intakes and shut off the engines in a restart attempt but it was to no avail. The turbines had been damaged.

"One, are you alright?" Shamrock asked, trying hard to keep the Strigon planes – which were attacking like hyenas – from her.

"Yeah" Rivecheg replied amidst the warning beeps in her cockpit.

Despite Garuda Two's and Avalanche's best efforts, one Flanker managed to land 3 bullet hits laterally across the aft of Talisman's Falcon.

"Garuda One, can you keep your plane up?" Ghost Eye asked.

Talisman's answer came in the form of an ejection.

* * *

Fedner ran back to the main street, followed by his schoolmate and another man who decided to help. When he looked back up to the sky however, he saw an F-16C – her body light due to lack of ordinance and flaming- barreling down their location.

"You are kidding me" he breathed out before shouting, "Ruuunnn!!"

As the three rushed back into the side street, they were knocked off their feet by the passing F-16C which crashed further down the main road. A loud explosion rocked the ground once more, followed by a much softer thud caused by a falling ejection seat. When the surrounding area became quiet once again, Fedner got back to his feet and cautiously moved towards the corner of the side-street where he saw a smoldering ruin of a plane on the side of a building half a block down the road.

Above him, the Emmerian civilian saw the plane's pilot slowly descending in a parachute. The wind flow, however, slammed the person to the side of a nearby building. Fedner cringed as if feeling the pain as he watched the pilot suspended in the air 3 meters above ground, her parachute caught in a protruding steel bar. She drew a knife and- without regard for her height - cut herself free. Despite knowing a person's impact force from a 3 meter fall, the engineering student spread his arms to catch her. He – who had always assumed that pilots were muscularly well-built and therefore heavy individuals– had his preconceptions torn down when he felt her light 50 kg-ish weight on his arms momentarily before his appendages gave way and dropped both him and the pilot onto the ground, she on top of him.

"Dumb catch" Talisman said, getting off Fedner, "I could have done a better landing"

"Wha-" he replied, taken aback by her lack of appreciation. "Your weight would have crushed your ankles"

"So, you admit you aren't strong enough to support 50 kilos?"

"No, I'm saying you are fat" retorted Fedner, getting to his feet.

"...I can't believe I'm arguing about my weight with a mere civilian" Talisman sighed, moving away from him.

Fedner – irritated by her condescending attitude and even more by the fact that the pilots he idolized turned out to be of poor character – began grumbling silently. He stopped, however, upon noticing the 165 cm tall pilot – shattering yet another of his preconceptions that pilots were tall - limping as she walked towards the ejection seat where she withdrew a small pack containing various survival equipments such as a short-wave radio, power bars and first-aid kit.

"_Five miles west outside the city. I just meet up with the retreating ground forces there" _Talisman thought, recalling Ghost Eye's rescue instructions given during her parachute descent. _"Hope my right leg can do it. I might have cracked a bone during that hit…stupid building"_

Rivecheg then took off her stifling, sweat-soaked helmet - revealing her blue eyes and short, slightly damp black hair - and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Dude," Haringoth said, coming up behind Fedner, "she's cute. No wonder you kept looking at her"

"I wasn't" he replied quickly. "I could never like a stuck-up person like that. I was only looking at her injured leg"

* * *

AN: If Blaze-Edge stuff is a tad depressing, why not make Talisman-Fedner stuff a bit lighter? Like I always say, contrast is good… Actually, that's the first time I said it.

The conversation parts in the beginning of the third section of this chapter (excluding the italized ones) are direct quotes from, and are credited to, the AC6 game.

Yellow, I apologize for the confusion. In the previous chapter, I intended to explain that Nagase- if she wants to gain jurisdiction to pursue Blaze- has to paint him a criminal.

Drake, you gave me too much credit. My regular updates was due mostly to my holiday (had too much time on my hands). But since school's starting - and Mass Effect 2 coming - next week, I may not be able to keep up updates as I have done. But don't fret.


End file.
